Christmas Confession
by Senpai Capone
Summary: It's getting close to Christmas, and Vito wants to confess his love to Henry, who is completely oblivious of his feelings. With the help of his two friends Joe and Eddie, he tries to find a way to romantically express his passion towards the man he loves.
1. One Week Prior

Vito couldn't focus on the news. Christmas was just around the corner, people kept sending him cards, and Joe constantly asked him when they would get together to throw a party. And by party, Joe just wanted to get drunk and surround himself with the most beautiful women.

Every sound on the TV sounded like gibberish, all to the point where Vito just had to shut it off and bask in the silence of his living room. He lie on the couch, on his side, staring at the wall in a deadpan state. Christmas was a holiday he dreaded, since when he was a kid, he never really experienced the joy of receiving presents like most kids did. All he got now and then was a book, new shoes, or a stuffed animal. The best present he'd ever received was a baseball bat and a couple balls. Francesca had no interest in sports, and would have rather stuck to reading books all day. Joe was the only kid Vito played ball with, but due to his behavior, Joe was grounded most of the time. The lack of pupils kept Vito in the outside his apartment smacking balls around by himself. He'd seldom ask his dad to play with him, since the man was always drinking or working.

With the burden of being poor on Christmas, Vito also found himself and his family in soup kitchens or gospel missions for food. Not to mention, it was cold. Cold as fuck. The winters in Empire Bay were merciless, and as a kid he'd gotten sick constantly.

 _Christmas_. It was a curse word in his mind. How other people enjoyed the chaotic nature of rushing in and out of stores to buy gifts, decorate a dead tree, get sick, and hear the same repetitive songs on the radio every year, Vito had no fucking idea.

Just when he thought he'd hate this year's Christmas, he had an objective in mind. An objective that made his heart swell when simply thinking about it. Because of it, this may be the first Christmas he'd actually enjoy, that is if he had the balls to pull off what he was about to do.

For a few years, he'd thought of this, and how he'd do it. If the plan would backfire or serve him good. Last year, he chickened out, broke his own heart out of shame and disappointment in himself, and ended up outside Joe's apartment the next morning covered in his own vomit. Luckily Joe was there just in time to drag him inside and stick him in the bathtub for a few hours. The vomit was gone, but he contracted an rash on his ass from the gritty surface of the tub.

This year, he was just going to do it. He was going to accomplish a great task beyond what he was accustomed to. He would need the assistance of a particular friend, though.

Peeling himself from the sofa, he went to put on his coat and head out the door. Negative ten degrees. He felt like a complete and total dumbass for even _wanting_ to go outside, but he needed to get out of the house. Cabin fever was a common thing during the winter.

It took him twenty minutes to get to the Maltese Falcon, which was typically an eight-minute journey, but there was a traffic jam due to two cars colliding on black ice. He had to take another route, which was a hassle and made his mood a hell of a lot worse than it was before.

Vito made his way inside the bar, disgruntled rather than pleased, but it was his own fault for even leaving his home during shit weather conditions.

As he wandered inside, he spotted a familiar face. The face belonged to his underboss, Eddie Scarpa. He was drinking, as usual, talking with some other colleagues of his. Vito figured he'd not speak a word to him and instead wander over to one of the booths. But alas, Eddie managed to spot him from a yard away.

"Hey, Vito!" he called out across the bar. Just as Vito sat down, he saw Eddie making a b-line towards him. As the underboss appeared before him, he had a grin on his face, and to Vito, that meant he was about to say something snarky.

"What're you doin' creepin' around here?" Eddie started. "You avoiding me or somethin'?"

"No, no," Vito answered, "I just needed to get outta the house for a while. I thought I'd come here."

"Uh huh." Eddie slid into the seat across from Vito. "Of all places, ya came here. Why ain't you going shopping with your sister? The holidays are comin' up."

Vito shrugged. "You know how it is. She's married, she's scared of me, yattah yattah yattah..."

"Ah, women. They're all the same." Eddie laughed. "How about a drink, kid? It'll warm you up."

"Sure." Vito responded. Eddie turned to whistle at the waiter. Vito busied himself by fondling a napkin while directing his eyes out the window. He had a wistful expression painted on his face as he watched the snow start to pick up the pace. By the time he'd leave, there would be a blizzard.

"You're gonna be here for a while, it looks like." Eddie started. "The roads are a fuckin' disaster. Were there any accidents on your way here?"

"Oh, you bet." Vito replied with a chuckle. The waiter approached and set the drinks in front of the two men. Immediately, Vito reached his hand forward to grasp his beverage, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip. The warm, bittersweet liquid trickled down his throat, sending a shiver up Vito's spine.

"Butterscotch brandy." Eddie raised his glass and grinned. "Limited edition. They only sell this shit around the holidays."

"I thought that was the gingerbread ale." Vito cocked an eyebrow.

"Ugh, don't even _talk_ about that ale." Eddie grimaced. "Carlo guzzled that down last New Years. I don't think I'd ever see a man barf that fuckin' much."

"Jesus..." Vito listened.

"He barfed on my fuckin' carpet." Eddie frowned. "Took a month for the smell to go away! Of course I can't be too mad, I mean he _is_ my boss."

Vito took another sip from his drink and kept an ear open for Eddie. He'd initially wanted alone time at the bar, but a friendly discussion with the underboss wouldn't hurt. Even though there was someone else he wanted to talk to even more...

"You hear about the, what was it... candy cane vodka?" Eddie added. "I wanna try that, but at the same time it sounds like another holiday hangover."

"What if someone used that to make an eggnog white Russian?" Vito spoke, smacking his lips to rid them of the spiciness.

Eddie laughed. "Hell, I'd pay to see that!"

Vito directed his attention out the window again, using his fingers to trace the texture on the glass of brandy. The snowfall was growing in severity, which caused Vito to grow quite disgruntled.

"I'll give you a lift later," Eddie offered, "I can't have one of my best men getting lost in this bullshit."

"The city's small. There's nothing to get lost in." Vito rolled his eyes. "You don't have to worry about me."

"Just being nice." Eddie knocked back his drink after Vito did so.

Vito thought about a better conversation topic besides booze, women, or the weather. He had one person on his mind, but it'd make for a weird atmosphere if he were to bring them up.

He took a deep breath, formulating what he wanted to say, and then began to speak.

"So... hear from Henry?" Vito asked, feeling his heart swell when he spoke that name.

"Not really." Eddie answered. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I just haven't heard from him in a while. You keepin' him busy?"

"Busy? Pssht. Nahh... it's closer to the holidays, so Carlo told me to go easy on the jobs. If I need you, or him, or Joe, I'll tell you."

"True." Vito nodded, looking down at his brandy. That wasn't the answer he was really looking for. He expected a lengthier conversation about him, but it was Eddie. What the fuck did he know? Besides, if he kept talking about Henry, he'd be pushing the envelope and enticing suspicion.

Unfortunately, Eddie had read Vito's expression and smirked. "Hang on a sec... you're up to something."

Vito's head shot up and his eyes widened. "Huh? No I'm not." Dead giveaway.

" _Riiiiight_ , sure you're not." Eddie chuckled. "I know when you guys are lying, and you're not getting past me."

"I'm not lying. What're you talking about?" Vito tried to refrain from breaking his composure.

Eddie sat back and crossed his arms. "Twenty years I've worked in his business. You're stiff as a board, your eyes are twice as open as they were before, and your neck is redder than a baboon's ass. I could even hear your ass clench just now."

Vito parted his lips, trying to make a comeback, but it was true. His entire muscle frame was tight, and he evaluated his face; he could _feel_ himself looking like a deer in headlights.

"Ah? See?" Eddie gave his usual smug look.

"See _what_?!" Vito's voiced raised an octave before he dropped it down to a quieter tone. "You're kinda pissing me off... okay?" Little did he know, he had leaned in nervously.

Eddie couldn't refrain from laughing. "You and that Joe. Horrible liars! If you're really telling the truth, you wouldn't be pissed. You're hiding somethin'! And I know just how to crack you open and pour the yolk out. Don't fuckin' test me."

"There's n-no 'yolk' to pour out." Vito felt the sweat forming above his brow, and damned his body for giving away his insecurities.

"You're sweating." Eddie noticed.

"No, I'm not. It's just the brandy kicking in."

"Uh huh..."

"And it's warm in here..."

"You have eyes for Henry." Eddie got right to the point.

"Christ..." Vito sat back and sighed. If he confessed, that would be the end of the world right then and there. But if he denied it, Eddie would try to pull it out of him anyway. There was no winning. Eddie had him trapped. He grit his teeth, regretting his choices.

"How about we give him a call?" Eddie sneered. "Maybe you can tell him how you feel. Or, you can tell him directly that you don't like him and want nothing to do with him."

"That's not fuckin' true." Vito grew defensive. "Look, just drop the whole fuckin' thing. Forget I said anything."

" _You_ were the one who brought it up, not me!" Eddie attempted to further get on Vito's nerves. "I'm just gonna assume that's a yes."

"Just... stop." Vito shook his head and looked down at the brandy that he didn't want to drink anymore. "Fine... fine... maybe it's a crush. I don't know... but why're you so hell bent on making me tell you?"

"I'm just hell bent on finding peoples' secrets." Eddie admitted. "It's what I do. Heh heh."

"You're a fucking asshole." Vito muttered, knocking back the once-tasty drink. It now tasted bitter, due to embarrassment. He immediately wanted to leave, to sprint out of the bar and towards home. He directed his eyes to the window again. Pure white.

"I'll take you home when you're ready." Eddie offered again. "Unless you want another brandy."

Vito couldn't fathom the idea of riding in a car with a sociopath such as Eddie. Another minute more and he'd end up squeezing every bit of information out of him. But if he waited at the bar for the storm to die down, the same thing would happen. Once again, he was trapped in Eddie's unwanted presence. He didn't have the heart to tell him to fuck off.

Eventually, he gave in and let Eddie drive him home. Vito had his arms crossed the entire way, his forehead pushed against the cold glass of the passenger door's window. Once they stopped in Vito's driveway, he put his hand on the door, ready to get out, but Eddie stopped him.

"Hey." he began. "I ain't gonna tell _nobody_ about what we talked about. I promise."

"Uh huh." Vito glared and got out of the car, shutting it roughly. He stuck his hands in his pockets and started towards his house, his shoulders slumped in a grumpy position. The few hours out of the house were not of real tranquility, and for that he became more stressed than before.

Once he entered the house, he locked the door and kicked off his snowy shoes before hitting the sofa. He placed his feet upon the coffee table and rested his head back, shutting his eyes and sighing for over five seconds.

He couldn't imagine the horror Eddie would cause, now knowing about his feelings towards Henry. He'd hate if Henry caught wind of it indirectly. For one, that'd take the magic out of being able to tell him how he felt. Also, if Henry were to reject him, he'd want to know head on, and not find out by watching Henry avoid him.

How many other people would Eddie tell? Sure, he made a promise not to, but surely he'd drop not-so-subtle hints just to embarrass Vito in an attempt to make him crack. He was going to reveal it to Henry somehow without Vito's consent, which was what Vito feared the most.

He needed some quick comfort. Joe would know what to do.


	2. Later That Night

It took some contemplation before Vito decided to call up his buddy Joe. He always had advice for him in any situation. While he made fun of him mercilessly, Joe was not the one to judge with cold intent. In fact, while he gave advice, he'd throw in his own personal experiences to relate to the situation. Vito was grateful to have a friend like that.

He dialed his number, sighing as the other end rang for a significant amount of time. Who knows what Joe was up to? Vito just hoped he wasn't too busy to hear his laments about the situation.

There was a rustling sound, followed with a feminine voice. "Hello~?" she began, leaving Vito confused. He soon realized the voice belonged to one of Joe's girls and shook his head.

"Hey, it's Vito. Is Joe there?" he started.

"Oh, well, Joe's actually—" There was a pause before he heard Joe's voice shouting in the background. Vito waited patiently before Joe gained possession of the phone and began speaking.

"It's Joe. Who's this?" Clearly, he sounded rushed.

"Who do you think?" Vito asked, knowing well that Joe would recognize him.

"Hey, bud." Joe started. "Sorry about that. I was on the shitter and one of my whores here thought it was appropriate to answer the phone. It could'a been for business ya know?"

"One of your whores?" Vito asked.

"It's the holidays," Joe explained, "I've got a little more love and money to give. So I invited three of 'em over."

"Three? Holy shit, nothing satisfies you, does it?"

"It's a record!" Joe laughed. "What do you need? I gotta get back to these girls before they start fucking each other."

"Well, it ain't something I _need..._ " Vito timidly explained.

"If ya wanna have a real talk then it's gotta wait 'till later." Joe replied. There was a giggling sound in the backdrop, and Vito knew that it would be a while until he'd be able to talk to Joe again.

"Okay..." Vito sighed. "Well, ah—"

"If you wanna take a load off my wallet and shoot your load on some broads," Joe began, "you could drive your ass over and help me fuck these ladies. Maybe help 'em out a little bit too, money-wise."

Vito shook his head. "I'm fine. Thanks for the offer." The thought of sleeping with prostitutes made him feel more ill than thrilled.

"Alright! Your loss!" Joe laughed. "Ci vediamo." He hung up before Vito could get a word out.

Vito set the receiver back down and slumped over onto the couch, eyelids shutting. He stared glumly at the clock, seeing as how it was already nine o' clock. He lazily lifted his hand to the curtain, pushing it aside with his fingers to catch a glimpse outside. Still violently snowing. He sighed. This would be one lonely night for him. Joe was getting all the pussy he could ever want, and Vito sat at home with butterscotch brandy sitting in his stomach, the weight of a longing heart sitting in his chest.

He only saw Henry once every couple of weeks, and his presence became a once-in-a-while thing. This made Vito miss him more, and wished he'd be able to see him often. What reason did he have to see him business wise? Towards the holidays, work was scarce. For one, no one wanted to drive around in the snow just to pop a cap between someone's eyes. Carlo understood that well. Also, he spared even his worst enemies the pain of death during a time where happiness was important. It was the "Christian" thing to do, according to him. Some of his guys even had families of their own to cater to. There were a multitude of reasons. That's why their payrolls were heavier come Thanksgiving, because by the time December hit, the workload was lighter.

He wondered if he'd ever crossed Henry's mind. During the day at his busiest, or during the night at his most tranquil. It was highly unlikely. Henry was so detached, distant, and cold. If he had any feelings for Vito, there was a one in a million chance he'd reciprocate them. Vito could try his hardest, drop all the hints, literally get on his hands and knees and _beg_ for Henry's love, but it'd be futile. Henry would scoff, turn up his nose and walk away. The mere thought caused an ache in Vito's heart.

He wondered just how much longer he'd have to pine over this single man. He had a plan to confess on Christmas Eve, and hopefully on Christmas morning he'd have a boyfriend. How he'd go about doing it, he had no idea. Perhaps he'd look to Joe and Eddie for advice. Okay, _maybe_ not Eddie... Vito was still mad at him.

For now, while Vito overthought and made himself miserable doing so, he settled for a drink. Into the night, he'd be doing just that while mowing over his own self-doubt.


	3. Next Morning

Somehow, Vito didn't get a hangover, which was unusual due to how many beers he guzzled down. Temporary relief for temporary pain, his dad always said. To that, he called bullshit. His dad drank every day until he died. That's when the pain ended. He wondered when the day would come, where someone would decide "Hey, maybe it's about time I drown Vito in the ocean." Those thoughts of his occurred after a night of killing brain cells. But the intense need to use the bathroom distracted him from these invasive thoughts.

As he relieved himself, he heard the phone ring from the other room. Just as he barely finished, he lumbered towards the ringing contraption and answered the call, his dick in his other hand. Clearing his throat, he spoke with fatigue in his tone.

"Hm... hello?" began the tired mobster. A familiar voice was heard, and this granted him a sense of rejuvenation.

"Hey, it's Joe. Sorry I never called back last night. You know how busy I was with them hookers." Joe sounded not even the slightest sympathetic, but he probably just woke up too.

"I know..." Vito yawned, rubbing his face with the hand that had formally left his phallus.

"So what was it you wanted to talk about last night?" Joe asked. Vito couldn't believe Joe remembered, or that he even cared, but it pleased him nonetheless.

"Something's been on my mind lately, and I just need someone to talk to." Vito was comfortable in admitting this. Joe wasn't one to refuse the burden of his best friend's troubles.

"Well, why didn't you say so last night?" Joe replied. "I would have booted those broads out of my living room if I'd known somethin' was bothering you."

"Are you... fucking... serious." Well, that was a nice wasted night of relishing in his own misery and the same beer one after another, knowing his best friend was having fun being balls deep in three women at a time.

"I'm sorry. If ya wanna come over to my place, I'm free. I mean _completely_ free. No whores, no underwear coverin' the floor. I cleaned up the place. It might need a little more dusting, but-"

"Thanks." Vito interrupted, sounding slightly exasperated. He was still a little peeved that Joe put those broads before him, but the time he was about to spend with his best friend would compensate for that. With what Vito was about to dump on him, Joe _deserved_ all the sex beforehand. Granted, he might need more afterwards.

"I hate to ask so much, but," Vito began, "could you give me a lift? I hate driving in this shit."

"Sure. I'll be over in a bit."

Vito glued himself to the couch patiently for half an hour, waiting for Joe to drive on over and pick his ass up. He remembered that black ice accident from the day before and cringed. Hopefully, Joe would be safe as he was a much better driver than Vito. To his surprise, Joe arrived right on time (an unusual happening). This was obvious when Joe had bashed his hand onto the horn, causing the car to emit obnoxious honking, which alerted Vito to peel himself from the couch and dart outside.

"Get your ass in here before my balls get frosty!" he could hear Joe shouting from the car. Vito nearly slipped on his ass from the ice coating the sidewalk before making it to the car door, throwing it open and leaping inside.

"Why ain't you put any salt on your driveway?" Joe noticed that all the sidewalks in Greenville were covered in salt most of the neighbors' driveways. The only smidge of property that was bereft of a single fleck of salt was Vito's. It looked as though he hadn't shoveled yet either.

"Haven't found the time to do it." Vito shrugged. In all honesty, he was just too lazy and expected one of his kiss-ass neighbors just to do it for him.

The car ride felt long as Joe boasted about the orgy he had with the working girls. Vito nodded and listened, allowing his friend to run his mouth, sparing no details about the night. While holding slight envy towards him, he was just happy to be in his company. Joe was just one of those guys where he could sit down with, listen to him for hours, talk shit about anything under the stars, and just take a load off. He was the typical good guy who gave his hospitality, no matter who they were - as long as they didn't hold a gun to his or his friends' heads.

Finally, the two arrived back at Joe's apartment, which looked the same as usual. The driveway was heavily salted because the ice accumulation was severe this year. Vito gulped, knowing that the inevitable was coming, the inevitable he had directly asked for, and that was to talk about his undying crush for Henry.

"Home sweet home." Joe entered the room with Vito behind him, his hands shoved timidly in his pockets. He shut the door behind him.

"So," Joe began, smacking his hands together in a charismatic manner before turning to Vito, "want a drink? Some pussy? Some food? Anything? You look like a fuckin' book case."

"Really?" Vito noticed how tight his muscles were, and how stiff his posture was. He felt like he was on the spot, in a courtroom - or at the bar with Eddie while sipping butterscotch brandy.

"Just sit the fuck down." Joe laughed, pressing his hand against Vito's back, gently guiding him to the living room, granting Vito the obligation to sit down on the sofa. Joe ventured into the kitchen and disappeared for one moment before returning with a coke for Vito. Just great, a non-alcoholic drink. This was definitely what Vito needed to start his morning.

"You wanted to talk to me, huh?" Joe began, sitting across from his best friend. "I had a feeling, 'cause you sounded like you just had a stick shoved up your ass."

"I'd might as well have." Vito rolled his eyes. "The humiliation would have been just as bad as what I'd been through."

"Shit, what the hell happened?" Joe caught wind of Vito's lethargic tone, his concern deepening.

"Well, it all started with me going to the bar yesterday," Vito began, "just because I needed to get out of the house. Huge fuckin' mistake; I had to drive around just to avoid a goddamn accident that happened in the middle of an intersection. When I got to the bar, Eddie came over to talk to me when I never even _asked_ for his company. I just wanted to be alone with a beer, but he brings over this nasty butterscotch brandy. I only drank it to be nice. So we talked a little bit and I asked him a small question."

"What'd you ask him?"

"I... uh..." Vito rubbed the back of his neck, which he felt shamefully start to heat up. "I asked him if he'd heard from Henry. I don't know why I asked it, I was just curious. I hadn't seen him in a while, and I was curious. But he takes that, and he makes a whole thing about it; he kept asking me if I had a crush on him, asked me if I wanted to fuck him, all this nasty shit-"

"Do you?"

"What?"

Joe gave Vito a knowing look. "Do you? You know..." There was an awkward moment of silence between the two before Vito knew just what Joe was asking. He had trouble even finding the words to answer his best friend. Great, now Joe was going to mock him, all because Vito needed to vent about something.

"Never mind." Vito shook his head, pressing his hands against the edge of the couch before lifting himself from the cushion. "Never fuckin' mind. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about _what!?"_ Joe started, noticing how his friend became defensive. "You're actin' really fuckin' weird."

"I said _don't worry about it_." Vito could feel the distrust pouring into his veins again, reminisce of yesterday. "This was all a mistake, I should'a just stayed home... _fuck_..." He felt exposed, betrayed, mortified. His best friend was there to witness his meltdown.

"Vito." Joe started, rising to his feet to level with the same intensity his friend had begun to display. "Vito, come here. Come on." Joe took Vito by the shoulders, whose neck and cheeks had turned a bright red. "This ain't somethin' to be embarrassed about. You like someone, someone you... work with... hmm. Okay, _maybe_ that's kinda embarrassing, but whatever!"

"You're alright with it?" Vito asked. "You're telling me right now, that you're actually _fine_ with me having feelings for another guy?"

"Shit, why would I have a problem with it?" Joe grinned, dropping his hands to his side. "In all honestly, who _wouldn't_ wanna fuck Henry? I'd fuck Henry. Hell, I'll even fuck Eddie. Or Carlo. _Maybe_ even you. But that's just me. I'll fuck anything under God's brightest bluest fuckin' sky. That's just me, I think with my dick. When I see something, my dick perks up like a dog lookin' at a fire hydrant. Men, women, I'd fuck it _all_."

"..." Vito kept his lips pursed when Joe spoke about his heavy libido. "It's just... I understand, but it's not like _that_."

"Huh? Like what? Where are you getting at?" Joe crossed his arms, cocking his head.

"It's a different kind of feeling; not in my dick. Well... _sometimes_ that happens." Vito tried his damned hardest to come up with the words to express just what point he was trying to get across. "It's... okay..." He sat back down, and Joe did the same thing, resuming the relaxing atmosphere. "...imagine you've just watched a movie. You've never heard of this movie until a friend pointed it out to you, and it sounds alright, it sounds promising, but when you watch this movie - from beginning to end - and afterward it just gets you _thinking._ You think and think about how much this movie has changed your life, and you just can't stop thinking about it. You wonder if there will ever be a sequel, if it'll become a series, if you'll be able to meet the actors or director and shake their hands and thank them for such a wonderful creation."

Vito had been staring at the ground while he spoke, and more and more he felt the temperature in his face and neck heat up. His mental process accelerated more than his mouth could keep up, thus being unable to feel himself trip over his own words. Once he was finished, he looked up at Joe, expecting him to have this empty expression plastered onto his face. An expression that depicted that of his words going through one ear and out the other.

He was wrong. Joe had seated himself in a relaxed position, his posture comfortable as can be, one hand pressed against his chin. His eyes narrowed in a focused manner, and he nodded now and then with the rhythm of Vito's explanation. It was a muddled explanation, but Joe had surprisingly caught onto it.

"...sorry." Vito sighed, hanging his head to comb his fingers through his hair shyly. "I shouldn't have dumped this shit on you. You've probably never been in this position. I'm sorry, Joe."

"I understand." Joe began. "I get it. And you know what I think is going on?"

Vito looked up at him with a hint of curiosity in his eyes, hungering for an answer to all his misery. Why he was looking to Joe for this kind of wisdom, he had no idea. It just felt necessary.

"You're in love." Joe concluded. "That's just it. Now, I've never been in love before - thank _God_. I love with my dick, not my heart. Lookin' at you seeing how this affects you, wow... love looks fuckin' painful."

"You think it _looks_ painful?" Vito questioned him. "It's tearing me apart. I have this goal I wanna reach by Christmas-"

"You wanna kiss him under the mistletoe, got it." Joe smirked.

"Well, kinda, I mean... I just wanna _tell_ him." Vito confessed. "All I wanna do is tell him how I feel. I'm not expecting him to love me back, kiss me under the mistletoe, make a gingerbread house and drink warm eggnog with him. I just want him to _know_."

"And what if he rejects you?" Joe asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Then oh well. I can't control how he feels. It just needs to come out, and what better time to do it than on Christmas! And if he doesn't reject me, _if_ he reciprocates, then it'll be the one of the best presents I'll ever receive."

"Wow." Joe shook his head, a smug look on his face. "You're one hell of a deprived man."

"I guess you can say that..." Vito leaned over, rubbing his face. "I guess I'll just have to see where this leads me. "I just don't know what to do, or how to approach it. I want it to be perfect, even if it doesn't happen in the end. This isn't asking out some girl in high school, this is _Henry_ , a man of refined tastes."

"Hey, I can help you out!" Joe laughed, leaning in to pat his friend on the back. "Give me less than a week, and you'll be an expert at being a heartthrob. Don't worry about it. You got me by your side."

"I'm lookin' to be more romantic, keep that in mind. I don't wanna get into his pants, okay?"

"I got you." Joe and Vito exchanged hopeful smiles, transferring positive vibes between the two, until Joe looked down at the table. "Hey, you gonna finish that coke?"

Vito gestured to the unopened beverage. "Have at it."


	4. Evening

"Is this really necessary?"

Vito and Joe went to the cathouse, and tonight the owners finally adorned the brothel in Christmas decor. Girls dressed like Mrs. Clause and wore tassels over their bras that resembled the white ball that hung from the end of Santa's hat. The song "Santa Baby" filled the room and passed along everyone's ears. Vito felt out of place in the building. The last thing he wanted - especially with his heart in a delicate condition - was to be dragged to a whore house.

"I'm not touchin' a single one of these girls, Joe." Vito warned him. "I ain't interested in any of 'em."

"You're not gonna fuck them!" Joe laughed. "That's _my_ job. But I'm gonna help you learn how to charm people. If you wanna ask Henry out on a date, really butter him up, you need practice. The whole 'will you go out with me' shit ain't gonna work."

"And you expect me to use your world famous cheesy pick-up lines? Henry ain't like that, and you know it."

"That's why you need to be _classy_ about it." Joe cracked his knuckles. "Just offer her a drink. Maybe a cigarette. But you need to be smooth about it."

"Smooth. Huh, yeah, got it..." Vito put his hands uncomfortably in his pockets, hunching his shoulders before turning away. He felt a pair of strong hands grab him before he spun around again.

"Shoulders back. Head up. Eyes forward. And take your fuckin' hands outta your pockets." Joe sized up his friend before sending him back out into the wilderness.

Vito changed his posture before wandering among the women. He looked around, trying not to retreat back into his uncomfortable, shy posture. He approached a woman sitting alone at one of the booths with a cigarette between her lips. She seemed to have been struggling with a lighter, trying to make a flame.

"Piece of shit..." she mumbled before Vito stood before her. She looked up and rolled her eyes. "Ugh, I'm on my break!" She scoffed at him, clearly having major cigarette withdrawals.

"Can I assist you?" Vito offered, reaching his hand into his coat pocket.

"Yeah. You can start by turning around and going back to where you belong." Her irritation grew, but a look of interest formed on her face as Vito held a cigarette lighter in his hands.

"I can prove to you how different I am from all these buffoons." He knelt down and flicked his lighter, extending his arm outwards until it met the bare end of the woman's cigarette. She held it between her lips with the support of her two fingers while inhaling. Blowing out a cloud of smoke with a sigh, she fluttered her eyelids. Vito managed to get a good look at her. She'd been wearing a coat, and her hair was done, but she wasn't wearing as much makeup as the prostitutes that heavily inhabited the whole room.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Vito began, storing his lighter back into his pocket.

"I'm out of town with my husband." She began. "His brother lives here, and he's getting married tomorrow. He decided he wanted to celebrate his bachelor party here. And you know what my son of a bitch husband decided to do? He decided to drag me here just so I can watch him ogle over these bimbos. Apparently, I don't give him any at home, because when he got here, he told me right to my face 'If I take you here, maybe you'll learn a few things about pleasing your man'. You know how that makes me feel?"

"Sheesh. What an asshole." Vito didn't know how to appropriately react. He wasn't expecting this.

"Uh huh. Of course, asshole is an understatement." She inhaled from her cigarette and allowed the smoke to leave her lungs. "So now I'm stuck here, waiting for him to get done doing whatever it is he wants to do. I'm apparently not allowed to leave."

"You don't need to listen to him." Vito thought to give harmless advice. "You're your own person, not some slave."

"Oh, well aren't you the charmer!" The woman gave a hearty laugh. "Wow, where the hell are my manners? My name's Laurie. What about you?"

"Vito." The mobster answered.

"Vito? That's a lovely name. Much more flattering than _George_. Am I right?" The woman stood to her feet. "Hmm... you know what? If he's willing to make me so jealous, then maybe..." She rubbed her chin before looking back up at Vito with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "How about it, Vito?" Her lips curled into a smile. "Wanna have some fun?"

"Heh. Not too wild." Vito answered. "How about a few drinks? I know a place nearby that has it all."

"Tell me more." Laurie looked particularly interested.

"Maltese Falcon. You and I. Drinks only, I don't wanna get too wild."

"You got it." She took Vito's willing hand, and he lead her towards the door. The bartender glanced at the two, having heard their conversation, and continued to polish the beverage glasses.

Vito looked around with Laurie at his side, trying to search for Joe. He was nowhere to be found by the entrance, so Vito assumed he had disappeared into the ocean of women to have himself a jolly good time.

Nevertheless, they exited the wild get-together, and headed towards Laurie's car, which really belonged to her husband. Laurie went to the driver's side and tried to open the door, but it was locked. She patted down her coat for the keys, but threw out some choice words when they weren't found.

"Fuck me. George has them..."

"Stand back." Vito approached the door and kneeled over, using his lock pick to open it up. It took not even a minute before he found all of its sweet spots. There was a _click_ before Vito pulled the handle. Laurie stood in awe as Vito held the door open, and she gratefully slid inside and in front of the steering wheel. Being polite and wanting to allow Laurie the pleasure of driving, he decided to sit in the passenger side.

"I've never stolen a car before!" Laurie laughed, turning the key in the ignition. "This is _really_ exciting!"

"Stole? This is your husband's car. Don't you share it?"

"Hahahah! Noooo, George loves this car more than he loves me! There's no 'what's yours is mine' shit in our marriage."

"Yup. Major asshole." Vito nodded.

"He put the down payment on it with the money he was supposed to put towards our wedding. We ended up having the wedding anyway, but it was the cheapest, shittiest wedding ever." Laurie drove off and away from the cathouse. "He's put so much money towards this hunk of junk! When he got it, I swear I thought he'd bought a dumpster on wheels. He paid to have a new interior, new body, new _everything_."

Vito listened, now regretting his choice in practice. He wished he'd gotten with some easy, brainless hooker than a deprived housewife.

"I kinda... wanna crash it." Laurie had this look of sadism in her eyes. "

"Are you serious?!" Vito knew his fears were real. She was absolutely _nuts._

"We should crash this car. This stupid fucking car has been the bane of our relationship. No, scratch that: I wanna push the car off the end of the dock and into the fuckin' water!" She let out a malicious laugh that sent a chill up Vito's spine.

"Can I at least show you that bar first?" Vito suggested. "I mean, it's a real good bar. Maybe if you drink somethin', you'll—"

"Shut up." She cut him off. "Car first. Drinks later."

Several minutes of rage and reckless driving later, they had made it to Derek's dockyard, and Laurie grew a conniving smile that extended to both of her ears. While this had been completely unplanned, Vito felt a sense of both fear and accomplishment. Ice caked the surface of the ocean, and surely enough the car would just fall right through.

Laurie drove the car just onto the end of the dock. The two of them got out and positioned themselves behind the car. Putting the strength of their shoulders and legs into the equation, the two managed to shove the car off the edge. Before them, the vehicle slowly teetered and landed headlight-first into the sheet of ice, sinking down into the frigid water for it to never see the light if day again.

Laurie stood at the edge with her hands pressed against her hips, breathing a sigh of relief. Vito stood behind her, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Feel any better?" he asked. She turned around and nodded, looking more rejuvenated than ever.

"You ready to get drinks?" Vito still felt the need to continue this practice date.

"Hmm..." Laurie hummed. "You know what? I think I'd rather be sober. This experience was really exhilarating, so I don't wanna dumb it down with booze. Instead, I'm gonna take a taxi back to my hometown, get my things, and move in with some friends. If I don't leave immediately, George is gonna have my head."

"Well, do what you need to do." Vito shrugged. "And, ah... I wish you only the best of luck."

"Heh. Thanks, Vito." Laurie approached the mobster and embraced him briefly before letting him go. "And don't worry. I won't speak your name to anyone."

"Grazi." Vito wouldn't know what he'd do if that George guy found out about him destroying his car with the help of his now ex-wife.

Soon after Laurie had disappeared into the night and back to her hometown, Vito decided to walk to the bar. He kept his hands shoved inside his pockets for warmth, but he didn't assume his previously uncomfortable posture. This time, he felt confident. And he kept this confident strut on his way to the Maltese Falcon. He just hoped Joe was still having fun, and it was unlikely that he'd even notice his disappearance.

Pushing through the glass doors and into the warmth of the bistro, Vito had a grin on his lips. The bartender greeted him as he walked inside, and the man was accompanied with the unmistakable aroma of coffee.

He stood before the bartender and ordered a mug of coffee with a shot of both espresso and whiskey. A little spiked beverage wouldn't do him harm.

Taking a seat at one of the booths, he sat back and enjoyed the warm, well-deserved beverage and felt the adrenaline melt away, in which it was replaced with a soft trickle of pride.

Staring out the window, he could see cars pass by, their lights accented by the darkening city. Luckily enough, Eddie wasn't there to give him unwanted attention.

Instead, another familiar person was within his presence. A voice could be heard just across the bar, only it wasn't loud like Eddie's, but softer, lower, and contained more gravel. There was a coolness to the tone, a coolness only a certain kind of voice could obtain. It tickled Vito's ears, and provoked a fluttering sensation within his guts.

He dared to turn his head, but couldn't help himself in doing so. Pivoting in the direction of the voice, Vito could see him from just feet away, finishing his conversation with someone of his same occupation, shaking the other's hand with a behavior of professional gratitude. His heart sunk into his stomach, and his breath suddenly vanished. Just within his reach, within earshot, within touch. In the flesh, his one single longing.

Henry.

And he was walking this way.


	5. There He Was

_Shit, shit, shit... what do I say?_

Vito felt himself turn back around and sink down into his booth unintentionally. He damned this natural reaction to embarrassment. He'd just stared at Henry with a very wistful look on his face. He could feel it; soft smile, half-opened eyes, flushed cheeks. Vito had taken on the form of a man staring upon the glory of his queen for the first time. Queen... had he just compared Henry to that of a queen? It seemed appropriate.

Taking his beverage and sipping it nervously, accidentally gulping, he made sure to keep his eyes forward. It seemed as though Henry had taken his time walking past him. Vito didn't know whether or not he was just waiting for him to pass, or to sit down and talk to him. The anticipation was muddled; Vito didn't know what he wanted. While he desired the need for Henry accompany him, he just wanted him to get out already. To leave him in his own internal struggle.

Henry finally passed Vito's table without a single word, and made his way towards the door, exiting. Vito's eyes followed his back until he was gone.

Upon Henry leaving the bar, Vito noticed he was sucking in air from the glass. Putting it down, he found that he'd compulsively guzzled down his drink out of sheer anxiousness. Small streams of coffee stained the corners of his mouth and chin, as he'd been drinking it too fast. That also explained the small stomach ache coming on.

Suddenly, Vito realized just how stupid he was and let out a groan. "Christ..." He'd just let Henry walk away, without uttering a single word to him. That could have been his chance, but... he wasn't ready yet, and it wasn't Christmas. He couldn't give himself away just yet. Still, a simple "hello" wouldn't have been the end of the world.

Discouraged and freshly mortified, Vito kept his drink at the table and walked out, returning to his uncomfortable, hunched-over position. He wondered how Laurie was doing, and if she had made it home safely, away from her greedy husband who'd be damned to find that his beloved car had taken a dip in the arctic tundra.

Vito took a cab and went home, trying to forget about the night. He hadn't learned anything, and wasted a day in "training". Joe was probably living it up; one by one, letting girls take a ride on him like a mechanical bull. He shuttered. It was only a matter of time before he'd lose it.

Opening the door, he was welcomed with the smell of his familiar haven of safety. Without even changing out of his clothes, he threw himself face-first onto the large mattress.

Immediately, sleep took over, and the following days events would surely surprise him.


	6. Five Days

_Rrrrrring! Rrrrrring Rrrrrring!_

"Fuuuuuuck..." Vito grazed his hands over his face, and just beneath his palms he could feel the formation of stubble. It was almost time for him to shave.

What didn't help his fatigue even more was the fact that the phone had decided to ring obnoxiously, forcing him out of his sweet dreams and leaving him with relentless morning wood. He had two choices: rub one off or answer the phone.

He chose the latter.

"Hullo...?" he mumbled into the phone. What was with people wanting to call him so early in the morning? This was starting to become a bothersome routine.

"Hey Vito. It's me, Eddie." Vito could recognize his underboss's voice and sighed. He was the last person he wanted to hear from at the moment.

"Hey." Vito began. "We got a job, don't we?"

"Heheh, you bet." Eddie chuckled. "I need you to bring your ass to the Maltese. Don't bring a gun. It ain't one of _those_ missions. Be down here ASAP."

The line went dead and Vito's arm flopped back to his side, even with the phone in his hand. He puffed his cheeks and blew out air irritably, slumping his shoulders. Great. Christmas was coming up, he had to make preparations, and now Eddie was toting him around for work. At least that would make for another dollar in his pocket.

Looking down, he had noticed that he'd slept in his clothes, hence the buildup of sweat beneath the garments. His stomach churned from the sugary beverage that had settled in his stomach while he slept, and his morning wood still hadn't gone down. Even with the disappointment of having to work, that wasn't enough to alleviate his arousal.

It was obvious he had dreamt of Henry; the product of his REM cycle served to be quite vivid. He'd completely remembered it, now that his brain actually started to wake up a bit. It had all felt absolutely bona fide. The texture of Henry's tender rosy lips, and the sleek texture of his suit. Vito had remembered running his hands over his sides, feeling his form just beneath his dark clothing. Suddenly, with the influence of Vito's desires, the clothes just seemed to melt right off the other man's body, even with Vito's hands still firmly pressed against Henry's hips.

And as Vito looked down, biting his lip and feeling the inevitable growth beneath his trousers, he noticed something particularly unexpected about Henry. Just over his toned and darkened olive flesh, he wore lingerie. French lingerie, laced up in the front with black ribbons, the fabric itself a rich shade of magenta. Why Henry was wearing lingerie, Vito had no fucking idea.

Grazing over his dream in animated detail, he appeased his physical needs in the shower as the grime from yesterday's adventures drizzled from his body. Turning off the faucet, he exited past the plastic curtains and dried himself off with a towel. He'd completely forgotten that he received these new towels and curtains from his dear sister in the mail. This meant that she'd forgiven him of beating her husband Eric within an inch of his life. She was quick to forgive, thank God, but sending Vito towels, shower curtains, and other various bathroom decor was an unusual - yet symbolic - way of showing forgiveness. Nonetheless, he loved Francesca, quirkiness and all.

Throwing on some fresh, cool clothes, Vito left the safety and warmth of his home, venturing back out into the frigid atmosphere. Starting his car, he started his conquest towards the Maltese Falcon.

Once he arrived, he stepped inside and felt the familiar heat encircle his body. Exhaling the last of whatever cold air inhabited his lungs, he looked around for any sight of Eddie. The bartender recognized him and spoke up.

"Excuse me, Mr. Scaletta," he started, "but Mr. Scarpa is in the private room in the back. He's waiting for you."

"Oh, good. I'd be pissed if he wasn't." Vito walked past him while keeping his back straight and eyes forward. What kind of serious mission could this possibly be if it involved meeting up in the executive room? The mystery remained.

Vito had approached the two doors and knocked on them respectfully. There was a muffled commotion behind the doors, followed by harsh whispers of profanity and a small "He's here!" before footsteps could be heard louder and louder...

The door opened, and there stood Eddie. "Thank fuckin' Christ. I couldn't hold down the fort for much longer." He sounded out of breath, as though something had happened.

"What's wrong?" Vito asked, a concerned tone in his voice. The frantic nature Eddie seemed to be displaying made him wonder what kind of trouble they had all gotten into this close to the holidays.

Eddie straightened himself out and laughed. "I'm just fuckin' with you. Get in here."

Great, the second time this week Eddie had successfully managed to fuck with Vito. When would this all end?

The underboss lead him inside with a devious grin. Vito had a sneaking suspicion that there was something going on. And he knew he wouldn't like it.

There was a second set of doors past the waiting room. Eddie pressed his hand against the mahogany surface before pushing it open. Vito stood front and center, and what he saw dumbfounded him.

There was a table in the middle of the candlelit room. Over its surface was a tablecloth and in the center of it was a slender vase of flowers. Two chairs were seated on each side, one of them already occupied. And in that chair sat Joe.

In drag.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" Eddie sneered. "Don't keep your date waiting!"


	7. Date Train

"Date? Whaddaya mean a _date?!"_ Vito had completely lost it.

"Go on. Take a seat. She's been waiting all evening for you." Eddie grabbed hold of Vito's shoulders, walking him to the empty chair and forcing him into it. Vito grunted before Eddie detached his hands from his shoulders.

Joe appeared to have been pretending to powder his cheeks to pass the time, holding one of those hand-mirrors with the blush pad inside. He'd applied a little too much, as his cheeks looked like pancakes doused in powdered sugar. His eyelids were way too smokey, and the coating of lipstick was so strong that some had even gotten onto his teeth. Vito wanted to laugh, but he was afraid there would be dire consequences of doing so.

Vito opened his mouth as Joe shut the mirror with a _snap._ He couldn't quite make out what to say. This wasn't Henry, or some broad. This was _Joe;_ someone he couldn't necessarily take seriously.

"Uh... hey, Joe. What's with the get-up?" Was it too late to ask this?

Joe frowned at Vito before exclaiming, "Joe? _Joe?!_ My name is _Josephine!_ I can't believe you don't remember! Oh my god, we went out in high school!"

"Huh?" Vito spoke in thorough confusion.

"Josephine? Josephine Barbarina? You went to prom with me when I was a size 6! I gained a few since then, and I've been looking for a man who can put up with my mood swings and weight gain. I need a man who can still see me for who I really am beneath all this luscious lady meat."

Vito furrowed his eyebrows and his lips parted. Was this some kind of joke? It had to have been.

"Well?" Joe continued his tirade. "Are you just gonna sit there and stare at me? Compliment me."

"C-compliment...?"

Joe banged his fist on the table threateningly. "Call me pretty!"

Out of pure intimidation, Vito blurted, "You're pretty!"

Joe scoffed, pressing his hand to his heart in an offended manner. "Pretty? Is that all you can come up with? I put on makeup for you. I fit my rolls in his two-sized-too-small corset for you. I fit my jumbo ass in this little dress, my feet in these horrible shoes, and I even put on underwear for you! Not only that, but I shaved! From my toes to the folds beneath my armpits. And all you can come up with is PRETTY?"

"Okay, FINE!" Vito shouted. "You're beautiful, lovely, gorgeous! God damn!"

Joe's expression changed from that of rage to contempt. He crossed his arms and turned up his nose. "Hmph. Over-achiever."

Vito rubbed his face, releasing an exasperated sigh. Eddie had been standing off to the side, snickering. Vito flashed him a dirty look from afar, demanding to know just what the hell was going on.

"Alright, Joe, cut the bullshit." he began. "What's with all this? The table, the candles, your clothes. Why? What're you trying to accomplish?"

"I told you, it's _Josephine!"_ Joe shot back. "I thought you were a gentleman. I guess I was wrong. This date was a waste of my time. I could have gone on a girl's night out, gotten my nails done, AND watch a sappy romance movie all with the time I've spent with your sorry ass!"

Joe slammed his hands on the table, forcing himself up and out of the chair. With that, he stomped his way out the doors, shoving them open with his arms out at full length like a diva exiting a show.

Eddie approached Vito, sitting in Joe's previous seat. "Congratulations, you've failed the fuckin' test."

"Test? What the hell—"

"I was at the cathouse last night when you and Joe came by." Eddie explained, not beating around the bush. "You'd walked out with some angry hag while Joe was getting some. I had a talk with him while you were getting some practice, and we came to the conclusion that you need help. Lots of it."

"Help? Oh, right..."

"Joe told me everything. About you wanting to spill your guts to Henry on Christmas. Quite some fuckin' goal. Sounds like some cheesy soap opera if you ask me."

"So what kind of help are you trying to get me?" Vito's voice changed from that of ashamed to more demanding.

"There's five days remaining until Christmas. Five days to get your shit together. Five days to learn how to be a romance fuckin' _master_. With what you have now, you're not gonna stand a chance. Henry will reject you before you get the first word out. I know."

"You know, huh?" Vito cocked an eyebrow.

Eddie's brow softened. "Yeah, I've been there. It's not easy."

Vito squinted. "Wait, did you...?"

"Yes, I tried." Eddie crossed his arms and sat back. He had a somber expression. "It wasn't exactly on Christmas. Valentines Day, to be exact. Got him a box of chocolates. I had done some _digging_ around, found some information about him. I wanted to know what kind of shit he was into. He was a chocolate addict. I'd found some receipts in the glove compartment in his car. Some candy wrappers too. Henry eats more chocolate than a woman on her fuckin' period. How he stays thin, that's beyond me."

"Uh huh... your point?"

"Anyways, I went up to him, gave him the box. I laid out some smooth talk on him. I felt confident, like the king of the fuckin' world. I could feel the warmth of the sun blasting out my ass, and in that moment... you know what I got?"

Vito raised an eyebrow, and Eddie confessed.

"A simple head shake. A head shake. And it wasn't no simple head shake. He'd shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. I didn't see even a spark of interest in his eyes. What the fuck? I thought. What had I done wrong? I'd been the smoothest talker, and my words have been able to make panties drop to the floor in an instant. I got him chocolate. His favorite, too! I can't remember the name of 'em, but they were these round candies wrapped in gold. Expensive as hell. And he turned me down."

"Sheesh, that's—"

"He took the fuckin' chocolate too!" Eddie's demeanor was that of both enraged and bitter. "That had never happened to me before. I tell you, just when I thought nobody could resist me, there I was, makin' a fool outta myself."

Vito was at loss for words, and filled with intimidation at the same time.

"I don't know what it was about me. What did he not see in me? I have potential! ...maybe he thinks he'd better than me." Eddie's eyebrows furrowed once more. "He was born with a silver spoon in his fuckin' mouth. Raised by a consigliere of a top-notch family back out in Sicily. Doesn't know a good man when he throws himself at his mercy! Fuckin' princess... thinks he's too high and mighty for me. If I could, I would show him. I would show him just what he's fuckin' missing out on, that ungrateful _CUNT_..."

"Eddie, Eddie! Holy shit, you're scarin' me!" Vito leaned back in an attempt to further himself from Eddie's rage.

The underboss's face had become a bright shade of red. "Sorry..." he slicked back a piece of stray hair, trying to catch his breath. "It still stings, ya know? Just... if I was you, I'd back down. It's not worth it. You'll do everything in your power to gain his interest and he'll rip your heart out in an instant. You're too good of a guy for him, Vito. He's an ice-cold succubus; gorgeous at first glance, but he'll kill you for pleasure."

Once Eddie had finished speaking, Vito nodded and stood to his feet. "Thanks for the advice, Eddie, but... I'm gonna keep trying. Your experiences and mine are different, and... I... I can't believe I'm saying this, but... I'd still like your training. As fucked up and weird as it is, I feel better knowing someone's behind me in this."

"Behind you... huh." Eddie stood. "Fine. If you wanna get yourself hurt this bad, I'd be more than happy to assist you. Only because once he delivers that stake to the heart, I'll be there to laugh."

"Alright, then. We have ourselves a deal." Vito didn't really think there was a deal there, but he wasn't the type to give up. Whatever it is, there was some sort of error in Eddie's method of getting Henry's approval. Vito didn't have a method, but nothing but raw confidence.

With that shard of confidence, he'd evolve it with the help of his comrades.


End file.
